by Clare Revell
Garth brought over two mugs of coffee. “I’m sorry for spiking the punch. Everyone else is mad at me, too. If you want to go home, I understand.”
After breakfast, they took their books and found a secluded spot on the cliff top overlooking the bay. Patrick leaned against the huge tree, book balanced on his thighs.
“So why did you turn me down last night?” Eleanor gazed over her book at him.
“I told you, I wasn’t going to take advantage of you.”
“It’s not that you don’t fancy me then?”
“You know I do. I love you.”
She leaned forwards. “Good, because I love you, too.” She kissed him.
The books slid to the ground as Patrick wrapped his arms around her, kissing her back.
****
Patrick looked over the cup at Liam. “Anyway, she left midafternoon, without saying goodbye, and I caught the train home. But she just disappeared, didn’t come back after the Easter break. No one knew why.”
Liam sipped his coffee, not saying anything, just listening intently. Sometimes having a teacher for a brother was a blessing. He knew when to speak and when to listen and his advice was usually well thought out and made perfect sense.
Patrick sighed, gently flexing the fingers on his bandaged right hand. “She didn’t write or anything. I persuaded the college office to give me her address, but it came back person unknown. I never saw or heard from her again. Well, not until I ran into her in the library one afternoon a couple of weeks ago. But anyway, yeah, the dates fit.”
“That doesn’t mean Abbie is your daughter.” Liam put his empty cup down. “You need to talk to her, bro.”
Patrick shook his head. “I tried. The words brick and wall spring to mind.”
“You know, for someone with an IQ of a hundred and twenty, you have the brain power of a box of rocks at times.”
Confusion twisted within him, compounding the complex mix of emotions. “Rocks don’t have brains.”
“Exactly.”
“I don’t have time for your riddles,” he said bluntly.
Liam didn’t let up. “I know you are many things, Pi, but I didn’t think an idiot was one of them.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Think about it from her point of view. Right now she’s hurting. Abbie’s sick, her parents weren’t who she thought they were, some maniac is trying to kill her and you waltz back into her life after fourteen years. That’s a heck of a lot for anyone to cope with on a good day. I’m not sure I could manage one of them. Never mind all at the same time. Maybe Eleanor had a good reason for keeping quiet about being Abbie’s mum. You won’t know until you sit down with her and hash this out.”
“All right. I’ll go back and talk to her.”
“Good.” He grasped Patrick’s hands. “But first, we pray. You and I might not see a way out of this, but God will.”
“See that’s the other thing. She thinks she did something unforgivable.” Would that be she’s working for a drug dealer or would it be her involvement with me…and having Abbie? Or betraying me by seeing someone else at the same time “How do I convince her otherwise?” He paused. “And please don’t breathe a word of this to Ni or Jacqui, until all of this is sorted out. Or at least until I get a handle on things.”
Liam mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key. “Ask the Lord for the right words, bro. Let Him take control here and work all this for good.”
****
Eleanor sat in the intensive care unit, machines beeping and hissing around her. Abbie lay unresponsive on the bed, almost as pale as the sheets. She pushed her daughter’s hair back from her face. “I failed you, squirt,” she whispered. “I love you so much and all this time I let you down. I should have been stronger and never let any of this happen.”
The nurse sat down next to her. “Did you want to ask anything about what the doctor said?” she asked. “I know how confusing it can all be when the doctor is talking. Usually you think of things after he’s gone.”
“He said something about her liver. And he did a blood test on me to see if I was a match for something.”
“The CT scan they did showed a mass on her liver.”
“A…a lump? She’s been having pain for a while. I was going to take her to the doctors, but never got around to making the appointment.”
The nurse nodded. “The accident yesterday caused swelling around the mass hence the bleeding Abbie had this morning. They did a biopsy and the mass is benign, but there is a lot of damage. She needs a liver transplant. Actually, the accident probably saved her life.”
“Is that what the blood tests were for? To see if I’m a match?”
The nurse nodded. “Does Abbie have any brothers or sisters?”
“No, just me. Do you know why the mass is there?”
“No. We’ll probably never know what caused it, but it looked like it has been there for a very long time. She could have been born with it.”
“She was a sickly baby. Couldn’t tolerate rich foods. She never pees a lot when we go out, sometimes all day without going at all.” She paused. “Is it my fault? Did I do something wrong when I was pregnant? Take too many headache pills or not eat enough iron or folic acid?”
The nurse patted her hand. “No, it’s nothing you did. Main thing is we’ve caught it now and can do something about it.”
The machines beeped and for a moment the bed in front of her vanished and she was in another hospital room, surrounded by machines…
****
Sweat dripped down her face as pain wracked her body again. She’d refused pain killers, and gas and air. She had to pay for her sins. She cried out, barely aware of where she was. She wanted to go home, not be stuck in a hospital with only her mother and a midwife for company. Unless things went wrong, she wouldn’t see a doctor at all during the delivery, as per hospital policy.
“Push, Eleanor,” the midwife said.
“I…am…” She screamed as the wave intensified, never breaking, just going on and on.
“Almost there, one more.”
Stars floated in front of her eyes as with a final cry something broke inside her and the pressure eased. The cry of a newborn baby filled the air.
“It’s a girl. Congratulations. Do you have a name for her?” the midwife asked.
She’d agreed with her mother this baby would be brought up as her sister. No one would ever know the truth. But maybe she could name her, her one and only gift. She opened her mouth to speak.
Her mother silenced her with a glare. “Abigail,” she said. “Abigail Harrison.”
****
“Miss Harrison?”
The doctor’s voice jerked Eleanor out of the memory. Since Patrick had come back into her life, the flashbacks of memories long suppressed kept happening far too often for her liking. “Do you have the results?”
“I’m afraid you’re not a tissue match.”
“But I’m her mother.”
“You’re thinking blood type only. Abbie’s blood type is O positive. Although your blood type is O you’re rhesus negative. It wouldn’t have affected either of you. However, for any subsequent pregnancies you have will need to be monitored carefully for the Rhesus factor. It’s not as bad as it sounds. We can manage the condition fairly easily these days.”
“Oh…”
“If we could test Abbie’s father, it’s possible he’d be a match. Do you have contact with him? It might be quicker than waiting for her name to reach the top of the list for a transplant.”
“Yeah, I know where he is. I’ll ask him to take the test.”
“If you can get him to come in within the next hour, we’ll get the results back today.”
“OK.” She returned her gaze to Abbie. “I really messed up, squirt. And I can’t even pray for God to heal you because He won’t listen to me.” She closed her eyes. She had to tell Patrick the truth before she asked him to take the test.
Far from the truth s
etting her free, it would only serve to condemn her further.
****
Patrick crossed the ITU, and stood there not wanting to disturb her. “Hi.”
Elle glanced up, concern filling her eyes as she took in his bandaged hand. “What happened?”
He shrugged it off. “It’s nothing. I picked a fight with the gym equipment and lost. How is she?”
“Not good.”
He sat beside her, his left hand threading between her fingers. “What did the doctor say?”
“There’s a tumor in her liver.”
His eyes widened, his jaw dropped. His whole body resonated as if he were a clanging cymbal. “She has cancer?”
“No, they did a biopsy. It’s benign. But the accident caused damage, too.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “It’s time I told you the truth. She’s your daughter, Patrick.”
His face worked madly, his stomach churned, and chest hurt. “My daughter?” He wanted her to say it again.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Our daughter.”
Joy flooded him. He had a daughter. He was a father. Then his joy tempered slightly by the thought that Elle had lied to him, never mind hidden the fact for the last thirteen years. The anger he’d felt in the gym over her lying, seeped back into him. “Why didn’t you say anything? I asked several times and you brushed me off. Why tell me now?”
“Abbie doesn’t know. She thinks she’s my sister. She’s right about the secrets in my family, there are too many of them. The thing is Abbie’s dying. She needs a liver transplant as soon as possible.”
His heart stopped and his breath caught in his throat. Dying? The words stuck in his throat, adding fuel to the fire filling him. “So arrange it.”
“I’m not a match because I’m O negative. She’s O positive. They want to test you to see if you’re a match.”
“I’m a match, can tell you that without a blood test. Though I imagine they’ll need to tissue type me as well.” He narrowed his eyes. Now it was all so clear. “So the only reason you told me is because you want something.”
“No, I need…” She shook her head. Tears filled her eyes. “You can save her life, Patrick. Abbie needs you.”
“I need to think about this.”
“Patrick? She’s dying! What is there to think about?”
He got to his feet and pushed a hand through her hair. So conflicted he didn’t know what to do or think or say. “Not about the transplant, Eleanor. About you. Shay’s outside. I’ll be back in a bit.”
She reached out to him, but he evaded her touch. “Patrick, please, don’t go.”
Lord, God, what do I do? I need to think, need time to get my head around this.
“I need to ring the office and speak to Abbie’s doctor. I’ll be back.” Biting his lip, he headed to the door. He glanced over his shoulder. Elle sat on the edge of the chair, her face buried in her hands. For a moment he almost went back and hugged her. But he was too angry. She didn’t need his anger or his feelings of betrayal right now. He turned away, almost bumping into the doctor. “Elle said you wanted to do a blood test. To see if I’d be a match for the transplant Abbie needs.”
“Are you Abbie’s father?”
“Apparently,” Patrick muttered. “Would a blood test prove that one way or the other?”
The doctor looked at him quizzically. “It would help, but there are other, more conclusive ones. Why?”
“It’s a long story. Do the blood tests and whatever DNA test you need to prove it.”
“I’ll need to speak to Miss Harrison…”
Patrick sighed. He pulled out his ID. As much as he hated doing it, sometimes pulling rank was necessary. “National security, doctor. Just hurry on the results.”
“OK. Come with me and we’ll do them now.”
“I just need to make a phone call. Then I’m all yours.”
14
Eleanor sat for an hour after Patrick left, her body numb and her mind in turmoil. Of all the ways she thought he’d react, walking out on her wasn’t one of them. Although she deserved nothing less.
She took hold of Abbie’s hand, gently stroking it. “Wish I knew what to do, squirt. I hoped he’d understand. Guess I was wrong. I’d hoped that one day things would be different. Past few days with him around, seeing him with you, I’d even hoped he could be part of our lives, but I well and truly put paid to that one. What do I do?”
“Hi, Eleanor. Can I be of any help?”
She looked up into the smiling face of Pastor Jack. “Oh, hello, Pastor.”
He sat down beside her. “I heard about your mum. I’m really sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“I was going to come and see you today, about organizing the funeral, but I guess you want to leave it for a couple of days.”
She nodded. “If you don’t mind, yeah. How did you find out about Abbie?”
“Patrick rang me. How is she?”
Tears filled her eyes and a fresh cramp of pain squeezed her heart. “She’s dying. She broke her arm in the crash and started vomiting blood this morning. They found a tumor on her liver and if she doesn’t get a transplant, she’ll die. The thing is, we’ve been…I’ve been living a lie the past thirteen, almost fourteen years, and now I’ve told Patrick the truth he’s run out on me. I’m not a match and he could be because she—”
“Slow down,” Pastor Jack said. “They found a tumor?”
“Yeah, when they did scans to find out why she was throwing up blood. There’s a huge mass on her liver.”
“Is the lump cancer?”
“No. Which, although I’m thankful for, it’s still killing her.” She took a deep breath. “The other thing is, I haven’t been honest with you or with anyone. I’m Abbie’s mum, not her sister. It’s a long story, but Mum was ashamed of what I did, and insisted on bringing Abbie up as her own.”
He nodded. “I see. Did you argue the point with her? Try to insist she was your daughter and you’d bring her up?”
“You don’t argue with mum…didn’t argue with her. She said I would be Abbie’s sister, nothing more. It was a better option than having her adopted. This way I got to see her every day.”
“Who’s her father?”
Right on cue Patrick walked in and answered the question without a pause. “I am.” He looked at her. “I’ve had the blood tests done. The doctor said he’s going to rush the results.”
“Thank you.”
He looked past her. “Pastor Jack. Thanks for coming over.”
“Thanks for the call. I was about to suggest that Eleanor and I go and get something to drink. It might be an idea if you joined us.”
Eleanor looked at him. “Pastor…”
Patrick spoke over her. “If this is about what I think it is, then it affects us both.” He looked at Shay as they left the room. “Can you sit with her while we’re gone? My phone’s on. Ring if there’s a change.”
Eleanor walked down the hallway with the two men, footsteps echoing, the clinical stench assailing her senses. To say she was uncomfortable would be an understatement. Yes, she needed to talk to Patrick, but surely this bordered on counseling and she didn’t need that.
A small voice within her, one she hadn’t heard in a long time, began to whisper. Wouldn’t it be nice to have faith like Patrick’s again? To have a relationship with God? To be loved unconditionally? To be forgiven.
They reached the café. Pastor Jack looked at them. “Grab a table and I’ll get the drinks. You guys want tea or coffee?”
“Tea,” they said in unison.
Pastor Jack smiled. “Tea it is. I’ll bring it over.”
She nodded, moving slowly over to the table in the corner. Sitting down, she pulled over the sugar bowl, listlessly moving the spoon through the small white granules, trying to ignore Patrick.
But the voice wouldn’t let her. He came back. He had the test. Surely that means something?
“Elle?” Patrick’s soft tone brought her head up to meet his
gaze.
“Why did you call Pastor Jack?” she asked.
“Because he needed to know about your mum so he can help you with organizing the funeral and so on. Besides, I can’t help you with this other hang up you have. I just thought if he explained—”
She pushed the sugar around the bowl. “I miss it,” she whispered. “I miss reading and praying.”
“So why did you stop?”
“Because…” She broke off as Pastor Jack put the tray onto the table.
“Tea and pastries. Cassie’s answer to all life’s problems.” He sat and winked at them. “Which accounts for my expanding waistline.”
Patrick smiled. “You could always join me in the gym.”
Pastor Jack looked at Patrick’s bandaged hand. “Perhaps one day.” He pulled his Bible from his jacket and set it on the table. “Shall we start by giving thanks?”
She nodded, closing her eyes. The familiar words warmed her, almost as much as the cup she wrapped her hands around when he finished speaking. If only it were enough to warm the frozen heart and soul within her. Patrick had gone some way towards doing that over the last few days. But she wasn’t sure whether she wanted this conversation or not. Did she really want to know for sure she was eternally damned?
Patrick studied his pastry, slowly pulling little pieces off and eating them. “So why stop reading and praying, Elle?” he asked, almost as smoothly as if they hadn’t been interrupted.
“Because I didn’t see the point.” She pulled a corner off the pastry, the sugar making her fingers sticky.
“That’s not a reason,” Patrick said bluntly. “That’s an excuse. A bit like, I’m too tired or the cat ate my homework.”
“What was I meant to do?” Guilt tied her stomach in knots and she dropped the pastry to the plate. “I’ve forfeited my salvation. There’s nothing I could ever do to atone for my sin. So as my redemption was lost, I had no relationship with God. That’s why I work in the nightclub. I’m past help. So there’s absolutely no point in reading or praying.”
“But you’ve been in church every week since you moved here a few months ago,” Pastor Jack said.
